Bringing It All Back Home
by HeardThemStirring
Summary: Hermione readjusts to the world and a new job at the Daily Prophet after a few months away. Forced to work with Puddlemere United's star Oliver Wood, straight-laced Hermione begins to blur the lines between business and pleasure. AU HG/OW
1. Chapter 1: A Horrid Morning

**Hey people! This is my first attempt at any sort of fanfiction. Seeing as I'm quite fond of Hermione/Oliver pairings I decided to try my hand at one. I promise Oliver will show up by Chapter 3, soo please be patient! I'll try to update this once a week at the very least so stay tuned.**

**Read and Review lovies! I know this first chapter isn't all that great, so bear with me and leave CONSTRUCTIVE criticism please x) If I get enough reviews I'll consider giving you all a say in the direction of the story (character names, etc.)**

* * *

__Chapter One__

A Horrid Morning

The blare of an alarm clock reverberated throughout a tiny London flat, its green digital font spelling 5:45. Letting out a low moan as she rolled onto her side, Hermione Granger quickly pushed the "OFF" button, her bushy brown hair plastered to her face after a troubling night. She had the vague feeling that she'd had a nightmare, but as it so often did, the blare of her alarm clock had interrupted it, leaving it to be forgotten.

Nightmares had grown to be a frequent happening, ever since _the war_. It had had a profound effect upon her, along with the entire wizarding population. However, the pain and suffering were simply too much for her to bear and she had decided to try her hand at living amongst muggles for a change; muggles that wouldn't notice her flinch at the sight of every person that somewhat resembled one of the dear friends she had lost that fated night nearly a year ago. Harry and Ron tried desperately to get her to come back to the world they claimed she belonged in. They said she was being, for once in her life, "irrational", however, their letters and pleas no longer had an effect on her and they had settled with visiting her every so often. It was obvious that they were far from giving up.

After casting a small frown at the empty opposite side of her bed, she slowly crawled out of bed and stumbled over to her closet, pulling random articles of clothing that she supposed matched out of her closet, finally making her way to the bathroom to prepare herself for the day. Ever since she had landed a job as a journalist, thanks to the papers she forged that stated the university she had gone to, she had fallen into the step of a mundane routine. Wake up, get dressed, go to work, eat, come home. As drab as it seemed, it kept her mind far from the wizarding world. There were times she even almost forgotten it existed…almost.

After a half an hour, she appeared in her shabby kitchen wearing a her typical attire of button up shirt tucked into a grey tweed skirt, her definition of "business attire". Her hair, damp from a quick shower, hung down to her shoulders and her face wore the expression of someone who'd rather be somewhere else. Her eyes flew to the clock on the wall and she felt a pang of nostalgia as she caught herself hoping to see one similar to the Weasley family's, with varied hands with names and location of family members. Yet all that stared back was a bold 6:37, translation: LATE. "Get a hold of yourself!" She whispered to herself quietly and, after grabbing her purse and reporter-style notebook and slipping on a pair of un-noteworthy heels, she was out the door.

She climbed into her old car before realizing she couldn't find her keys in her purse. Her instant reflex was to reach for her wand and retrieve them with a simple _accio_, however all her hand met was the rough tweed of her skirt, her wand lying hidden in a drawer inside. It was insanely unrealistic of her to have thought she could train herself to _not_ be a witch. It was so ingrained in her. Hermione had tried telling herself that what she was doing was for the best; that it was protecting her from deeper hurts, but on mornings like this, it was easy to doubt her reasoning. Letting out an impatient sigh, she opened her car door and went and retrieved a spare key from the trunk of her car. Once back in the driver's seat, she shoved it into the ignition and pressed on the gas, letting out a yelp as she flew backwards, as a result of unknowingly having the car in reverse. Her foot had jammed on the breaks at the perfect instant, her rear bumper inches from the car behind her. "Bloody hell…" she muttered to herself, yanking the clutch into "drive" and beginning her morning commute to work. "Can this morning get any worse?"

…

"You're fired, Ms. Granger."

Hermione stood before her boss, dumbstruck.

When she had arrived at work that morning, the receptionist had told her that the boss wanted to speak with her, but she couldn't have ever expected _this_.

"Erm.. excuse me? I- I don't understand."

"I'm sorry but to be honest, your work is far too…out there." Her boss traced apostrophe marks in the air with his middle and index fingers as he stated the last two words. "You were assigned to do a children's story for a preschooler level magazine and you submitted a story about a bouncing cauldron? Please Hermione, this is _not_ the Halloween issue. It's got to be somewhat believable. Your work leaves me backlogged every time and I'm sorry. I just can't afford having you on the team."

Hermione bit her lip, frowning. She had loosely based the story upon one she found in her copy of Beetle the Bard and hadn't even considered how it would sound to a muggle audience.

"I…please just give me another chance!"

"Your 'last chance' was up ages ago. Please pack your things and leave."

Standing frozen before his mahogany desk, Hermione's eyes began to well up. "I…I…"

"Spare me the waterworks, darling. They really won't help your cause" and with that, he looked back down at his work, signing paper after paper.

As tears started marking their sodden tracks down her face, Hermione grabbed her bag and left, ignoring the questioning look the receptionist shot at her.

Sitting in her car, completely baffled by the previous events, Hermione decided upon following the only definitive thought she had: "I need a pint…"

After an hour or so at the local pub and rejecting many a drink from drunken men, she heard a distant ringing. Realizing it was her phone, which rarely ever rang seeing as only two people on earth had its number, she quickly answered.

"Hello?" She asked in a quiet tone, expecting either Ron or Harry's voice to respond.

"HERMIONE? HULLO?"

Definitely Ron. He still hadn't quite gotten the hang of using cell phones.

"What is it Ronald?" She asked, using his full name, which she reserved for the off occasion that she was genuinely upset.

Ron seemed to pick up on it instantly and took on a quieter, guarded tone.

"Erm…"

Hermione heard the phone being handed from one individual from another and it was Harry who spoke this time.

"Hermione, come home."

"What?! Harry…" she frowned. "We've gone over this…"

"No, I mean come to your apartment. We're paying you a visit."

"Oh… er. Alright." She responded and was promptly met by a dial tone.

It was quite unlike Ron and Harry to drop by unannounced and, despite her unwillingness to face their carefully thought out arguments for her return to the wizarding world (especially when she was so close to submitting), curiosity burned within her and she left her third glass unfinished, grabbing her keys and rushing out to her car for what was sure to be an interesting encounter.


	2. Chapter 2: Where You Belong

Hello there! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I apologize if it seems a bit rushed… I'm trying to get to Oliver sooner, can you blame me? X) hehe

I've decided that I'll probably update once or twice every week so once more, stay tuned!

____________

I

"Hello?" Hermione called out as she unlocked the door, her brown eyes raking over the apartment as she hung her keys on a peg on the wall.

"Over here," she heard Harry call from the kitchen and, smiling widely despite her hesitance to hear what they had to say, she hurried over.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Once she released him, she looked around for Ron, spotting him beside the counter smirking at her. She grinned back and gave him a hug.

"Blimey you look dreadful." Ron chortled.

"Hello to you, too, Ron." She said in as sarcastic of a tone as she could manage. It was rather ineffective, however, seeing as couldn't wipe the beaming smile from her face. She hadn't realized how much she missed having them around.

"I'm really glad you guys are here. I apologize for being a bit…testy…on the phone."

She sighed and plopped down on the couch, leaning her head back, "Let's just say I've had a really dreadful morning alright?"

Ron stepped forward with a cautious smile and said, "Well…we're here to make it better. Now, I fully understand that you're content with your current job and all, but Hermione we've news of a really wonderful opportunity for you. Just hear us out, yeah?"

Harry nodded picked up where Ron left off, "Hermione, The Daily Prophet has an opening for a field reporter. It's a crap job for now but they've said that, if you show promise, they'd promote you within the year. I called in a few favors and they said they'd be thrilled to have you."

Hermione began to get the feeling that this was a meticulously rehearsed conversation. When she opened her mouth to speak Harry's next words caused her to close it.

Harry had lowered his eyes and shrugged lightly, "Just because you've decided to run off doesn't mean the Wizarding community has forgotten about you…you're still known as one of the brightest witches of our age…definitely worthy of the Prophet." He added, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione frowned, her resolve swaying. She was fully aware of the sheer volume of "guilt tripping" Harry was currently using on her however his proposal seemed appealing. Hermione hated going back on decisions, but she felt that suffering through another day in this hell-hole wasn't worth maintaining her reputation as irrefutably stubborn. She frowned at the two men.

"I was fired today" she admitted.

Shock crossed both their faces, quickly followed by determination. "Then that's all the more reason—" Ron began, "to come back!" Harry finished. Ron paused, waiting for Hermione's rebuttal, but it never came. With a triumphant smile, he continued talking, "Hermione, you _know_ you want to come back! You'd be pretty bloody amazed at how much has changed in just the past months." He walked towards Hermione and sat beside her, his long legs barely fitting in the space between the coffee table and the couch. "I don't know what you're so afraid of! Believe me, it's not all desolation and despair. To be honest, you seem to be the only one who looks at it that way!"

Hermione simply frowned at him, heightening his frustration.

"Merlin's beard! Being stubborn isn't going to get you anywhere!" Ron responded. Hermione's frown grew and her eyes began to well up. She _knew_ he was right. Harry approached the couch and slid between Ron and Hermione, shoving his red-headed friend out of the way. "Callous bastard" he muttered to Ron then turned his gaze to Hermione, imploring her to see reason in their suggestion. "What Ron _means_ to say is that life is pretty great. Loads better than anything waiting for you here. And we miss you. Everyone misses you. Maybe this whole 'losing your job' bit is a sign or something…" His voice trailed off as he saw Hermione ready herself to talk.

Hermione's entire stance had crumbled that morning as she realized she was staying in this god forsaken place out of some imaginary obligation rather than actual desire. She wasn't about to pass up the perfect opportunity to return to the world she loved.

"I…I know." She said, casting desperate looks at her two best mates.

She stood and began pacing the floor, beginning to vent. "How could I have been so stupid? And _selfish_! Ugh!" Hermione groaned. "I've been trying _so hard_ to convince myself that this silly life, this--" Hermione threw her arms up, indicating her shabby flat, "this stupid existence, is somehow worth it. That it's more stable and as a result more safe… but since when did _we_ ever consider being 'safe' important, right?! Forget that! I want to go HOME."

Ron let out a whoop and clapped Harry on the back. "It's about time!" he said with a laugh.

Hermione let out a long sigh of relief, finally having released her pent up emotions.

"That felt good." She added with a shy smile, looking down at her two friends seated on the couch.

Harry beamed up at her, "Brilliant! Well… that settles it then." His tone was near giddy. It was obvious that Harry and Ron's practiced conversation hadn't counted upon her saying 'yes' so easily. "Erhm…" Harry said, still awestruck. "Let's get packed, yeah?"

…

II

After retrieving her trunk from its hiding place in her closet, Ron and Harry had proceeded to send nearly all the contents of her flat within it. Hermione had nearly forgotten how much easier life was with magic.

She changed into more casual clothing, a simple pair of jeans and a jacket, and was ready to retrieve the most important item from her flat.

With a wide grin, she held her hand out, wordlessly asking Ron for his wand. He looked at her questioningly but handed it to her anyway.

"Accio!" she said more loudly than was necessary.

She heard a rattling come from behind her and within seconds, her wand shot out of the drawer it had been hidden in and into her hand. Sparks flew out of it the second it she held it and her expression was joyous, like a child on Christmas morning. She knew this was who she was meant to be and being reunited with her wand was akin to seeing a long lost friend.

"Engorgio!" Hermione said, pointing her own wand at drooping flowers that rested in a vase. They instantly doubled in size and she nearly squealed with delight. "Lets go." She said, rushing to the door. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance that conveyed their mix of happiness and confusion and shrugged, lifting her trunk and leaving the apartment far, far behind.

…

III

Within the next hour she was in Diagon Alley, being stared at by any passerbyers. Although it had tended to bother Hermione before, she hardly noticed. Her eyes took in the sight of the crowded street. It had changed vastly since the last time she had seen it. It was more…alive. As always, the brightly colored building labeled Number 93, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes helped in livening up the place.

Harry and Ron had busied themselves with finding her a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and resultantly, Hermione had an hour or so to kill.

She smiled widely at the sight of the joke shop and, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she headed straight towards it. The moment she entered she was met by the pungent scent of new parchment and toothpaste, coming from a rack labeled "WonderWitch: Love Potions"…_Typical_, she thought to herself with a smirk. The place was, as usual, packed with all sorts of people and although she didn't recognize the majority of them, she felt incredibly at home. Just as she was testing out self-inking quill, two loud –POP- sounds came from either side of her.

"Hermione!" Fred and George yelled in unison, having apparated beside her.

She clutched at her chest in shock, "Boys! You scared me half to death!" she lightly chastised, before hugging them both.

"How are you?!" She exclaimed with a large smile.  
"Brilliant! We haven't seen _you_ in _ages_." Fred (or at least she thought it was Fred…) said with a grin.

"Right…" she said looking at her shoes uncomfortably, "Well… yeah…"

George smiled knowingly, "Its great to have you back, 'Mione."

A teenager began wailing in a corner, the victim of a punching telescope.

"Ah, duty calls!" Fred and George laughed. "We'll see you around, Hermione."

They high-fived each other, then walked over to help the boy. Hermione could hear Fred telling the boy, "Oi! They said DO NOT TOUCH, mate!"

She sighed and put down the quill, making a mental note to come back once she had a few a sickles to spare.

Hermione went outside and glanced around, searching for Harry and Ron, yet to no avail. She smiled widely in response to the extra time and walked over to Flourish and Blotts. She could have squealed with joy in response to the piles of books that surrounded her. A group of what appeared to be third years stared at her with dumbstruck looks. The bravest of the group approached her cautiously.

"Erm. I'm sorry are you… _Hermione_ _Granger_?"

She nodded slowly, clutching a book to her chest. "Yes?"

The young boy grinned and laughed, "Blimey!" He turned around and waved to his friends.

Hermione stifled a groan. Right as the young group of kids were about to approach her and interrogate her about things she'd rather forget, she heard Ron's voice from the entrance of the store.

"I bet you a million galleons she's in here. Books are basically Hermione magnets."

She heard them laugh and glanced at the group of kids.

"Erm. Sorry I've got to go." She said quietly and raced over to Harry and Ron.

"Pay up!" Ron teased Harry upon seeing Hermione, earning a light punch from Harry.

"Hey guys," Hermione said with a grin.

"Hey. What's that book?" Harry asked.

"Oh…" Hermione hadn't noticed she was even holding it. The feel of a book in her arms was nearly second nature. "I'm not sure actually." She laughed lightly and read the cover aloud, "Quidditch Through the Ages".

Harry's eyes lit up, "That's a great one!" he exclaimed, taking the book from her.

Hermione smiled lightly and shrugged, "You would know…So, any luck at the Leaky Couldron?"

Ron nodded and handed her a key, "Yep. Room 9…Oh and we stopped by the Daily Prophet Office! Harry says you're interview is tomorrow morning."

"Lovely…" Hermione said, unsure how to react. As happy as she was about a job, the prospect of an interview worried her beyond belief.

"You'll do wonderfully," Ron encouraged with a grin.

"I sure hope so. Let's go, yeah? Those third years look mighty eager to talk to us."

Ron chuckled and nodded.

"I'll catch up with you later!" Harry called out from one of the aisles of books and with a small shrug, the two of them left the store and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron.

…

IV

"Hey Tom," the two of them called out as they sat at the barstools and ordered two Butterbeers. They remained quiet for the most part. Ron generally seemed afraid of bringing up the wrong subject however, Hermione sat content with the silence. Ten minutes or so later, Harry entered with a package wrapped in brown paper.

"Hey guys," he said cheerfully, "Ron… we'd better head off. Hermione needs her rest, she's got an interview in the morning."

Ron nodded and laughed, "That's right."

Hermione bit her lip, "Thanks a lot guys. Really. This has been the best day I've had it quite some time."

Harry smiled and handed her the package. "Good luck with your interview Hermione. I'm sure you'll do splendidly. C'mon Ron," Harry said, as Ron rose from their seat. They both gave her a quick hug, exchanged goodbyes and with that, Ron and Harry left the bar.

With a happy sigh, she tore open the packaging. "Quidditch Through the Ages" she said with a laugh. "Lovely."

Carrying the book, content with her day, Hermione climbed the familiar stairs to her room and went to bed, ready for whatever the next day was to bring.

____________

I apologize for not introducing Oliver sooner. I promise he'll be in the next chapter!

Review please?

I **absolutely** **love** hearing from you all. Any critique is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3: On The Job

**Hey people! Is it sad that I'm excited about 100+ hits? I'm so new to this whole deal. Haha. Anyway, here it is! The intro-to-Oliver chapter ...about time right?! **

**Read and **_**review**_**! Please?**

**ANYWAY, I hope this isn't dreadfully anticlimactic… **

__Chapter Three__

I

Hermione sat in an old wooden chair, nervously tapping her fingernails against its arm. Her lack of sleep, a result of late night reading thanks to Harry's gift, only served to heightened her sense of anxiety. She let out a small sigh and aimlessly straightened the already neat stack of parchments in her lap. Tens of questions were running through her head, like a rolodex of self-doubts, ranging from the complex "Am I ready to be a Daily Prophet reporter? Hell, am I ready to be back here?" to the trivial "Is there anything in my teeth". Her worries were simultaneously alleviated and multiplied as she heard the voice of Daily Prophet editor, Barnabas Cuffe.

"Ms. Granger?" she heard an elderly voice ask quietly.

She immediately stood up to greet him.

"Yes Mr. Cuffe, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh please call me Barnabas."

Hermione smiled nervously and sat back down as he lowered himself into the stately seat behind the desk.

"Alright," he heaved, "Let's have a look at some examples of your work." Barnabas extended a waiting hand, in which Hermione placed the stack of papers she had been previously fidgeting with.

"Ah…" he said and rose his grey bushy eyebrows as he skimmed one of her works from a London newspaper. "This is a muggle sport, yes?" He flipped the paper he was reading over to reveal a stationary picture of a man kicking a football into a net.

"Yes, although I didn't usually do sports… That was just an odd-job…" Hermione responded with a nod.

"Hmm…" and the ruffling of papers were his only responses.

_Was that a bad thing?_ Hermione wondered to herself. She watched his face intently in an attempt to catch a reaction, yet his expression remained stolid. _For Godric's sake_, she thought, _What if I don't get the job?! _

"Well," Barnabus stated, finally breaking the silence and dropping the papers on his desk. "This is really brilliant stuff Ms. Granger."

"Thank you, sir. And please, call me Hermione." She said with a smile, relieved by his response.

"Yes, Hermione then. I'm especially fond of your sports coverage. I think you'd be perfect for a story concerning the new reserves for Puddlemere United. Nothing too serious, just a single piece for the Prophet. What do you say?"

Hermione really wasn't fond of quidditch…nor flying, but this was a job. One she desperately needed at that. She faked a smile, glad she had read the book Harry had purchased for her. "I'd love to do it. They're the oldest team in the league, yes?"

Barnabus looked impressed, "Why yes. It seems as though you know your quidditch. Lovely. Speak with Dalia at the front desk and we'll get you the proper press badges and such. I'm sure it'll be a pleasure working with you."

Hermione grinned, "Likewise. When shall I start?"

"Well ideally you'd head off today…but if that's a problem…"

"Of course not! Brilliant. Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. Goodbye then."

Barnabus nodded a goodbye and went back to his work.

Hermione picked up her press badge within a few short minutes and with that, she was off. Hermione packed a set of clothes in her day-trip purse in case the research would take longer than she anticipated and left a note for Harry and Ron at the Leaky Cauldron in case they came looking for her. She had decided to take the train to the Puddlemere quidditch pitch and took the first one out. It was all happening so fast. A week ago she would have _never_ imagined she'd be writing for the Prophet and here she was on a train to Dorset. Life really was curious.

On the train, Hermione decided to give "Quidditch Through the Ages" another read so as to brush up on the rules of the game. She was going into this piece completely inexperienced and quite unlearned in wizarding journalism, let alone quidditch. The feat absolutely terrified as much as it excited her, for she was, after all, back in her element. Back in her world. She sighed contentedly and looked out the window, watching the brilliant green hues of the English countryside pass her by.

…

II

Hermione stepped off the train, feeling very much out of place in her button up white shirt, black skirt and grey cardigan. The only other people at the station appeared to be a muggle couple, arguing in front of a map about whether or not they had arrived at the correct station. She ducked out of the vicinity and onto the street and once she was sure she was out of view from any lingering muggles, she turned on the spot and apparated to the entrance of the Puddlemere pitch. Having not done it in a while, the sensation was unexpected. _Have I done it incorrectly?! _She thought frantically. Her worries were, however, unnecessary as she soon found herself before two large doors, each emblazoned with the Puddlemere's characteristic crossed golden bulrushes.

Hermione took a deep breath and entered. A guard had stopped her, asking her purpose, yet with a quick flash of her Daily Prophet press pass, he let her through and she continued walking until she found herself in the quidditch pitch. She had hoped, unrealistically, to find the team there immediately yet, seeing as it was the off-season, the place was largely empty. This was all good and fine, however, she _did_ happen to have an article to write. Being so, she walked towards the only man she could find, a scrawny janitor waving his wand lazily at brooms and mops, which swept and mopped with unenthusiastic motions.

"Excuse me?" She called out, wrapping her sweater around her against the cold wind.

The man jumped what seemed feet into the air and the broom and mop clattered loudly, falling to the ground.

"Bloody 'ell lady, what 'cha doing on the pitch at this time? Scared me half to death, you did…"

Hermione smiled apologetically, "I'm really sorry, sir. I..." She paused and handed him her press badge, "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to be writing an article on Puddlemere's new reserves. Please to meet you," She said extending a hand. The janitor stared at it for a moment, surprised at her cordial treatment, before wiping his dirty palm on his shirt and shaking her hand vigorously.

"'Ermione Granger, eh? Yeah, I've 'eard of _you_." He smiled widely at her. "I'm Artie. Artie Cook. What can I 'elp you with, miss?"

"Well Artie, I'm trying to find the captain of the team. I understand if he's busy or unavailable. I just need to see if I can get some interviews or something of the sort… To be honest, I don't know much about quidditch. This is my first job with the Prophet. I'm just trying not to mess it up."

Artie grinned, "Ah, its not 'ard to convince Calum to 'ave a chat with a pretty lass such as yourself." He laughed to himself. He noticed Hermione's look of confusion in response to Calum's name. "Oh, Calum Gowrie's the cap'n in case you're wonderin'… If I'm not mistaken, the team is getting their uniforms on now. I'll go let 'im know you're here."

Hermione smiled gratefully, stating a sweet "Thank you very much Artie, I really appreciate it", then sitting down on the lowest bleacher.

In a few minutes, she spotted a man with red hair walking towards her, his navy blue and gold 'Captain' robes billowing in the light wind. Hermione stood to greet him.

"Mr. Gowrie, yes?" She asked.

Calum smiled coquettishly, quite obviously trying to 'charm' her in the metaphorical sense of the word. "Aye. That's me. But, och, just call me Calum… Artie says you need an interview?"

Hermione ignored his 'charming' smile and good looks, focusing on the task at hand. "Alright, Calum. I write for the Daily Prophet, my name is—"

Calum interrupted her with a barking laugh, "Hermione Granger, of course. Seriously woman, I don't think you need to introduce yourself."

She raised an eyebrow at him, a bit annoyed. "Alright. Erm. Anyway, I was wondering if there was any way I could interview your reserves? That's the subject of the article I'm writing… I hear they seem to have shown quite promise."

Calum sighed. He had hoped she'd be interviewing _him_. She was obviously going to be a tough one to win over. "Erm, yeah. Sure thing." He said, a bit dejected at her lack of response to his attempt at flirting. He ran a hand through his copper colored hair and thought for a moment. "You'll want to be talking to James McPherson and Oliver Wood. They're the 'soon to be stars.'"

Hermione nodded and scribbled the names into a notepad. _Oliver Wood?_ She thought to herself, tapping the pen upon the pad of paper. _He was the Gryffindor quidditch captain wasn't he? _She could have sworn she had heard Harry talk about him. Her musings were interrupted by Calum's voice.

"Erm, well I've got to go." He said, glancing at the center of the pitch where much of the team was huddled. "I'll send the boys over once we're through practicing." He smiled and shook her hand, turning around and jogging towards the pitch.

Hermione sat for the next hour, observing the team practicing. She took a few notes every now and then, but prolonged exposure the frigid air had made her fingers feel numb, rendering her hands rather useless. All she could really do was sit back and watch, earning a few quizzical glances from the players. She worried about the fact that she wasn't getting much work done, however the fact that she had nothing better to do meant could easily stay an extra day. The prospect seemed, surprisingly, fun. She had never particularly enjoyed watching quidditch but the passion which with these men played was undoubtedly admirable.

The practice game drew on, until suddenly, a blonde haired wizard tilted his broom downward and soared towards a shiny, gold object. _A Seeker_, she noted. As soon as his hand wrapped around the snitch, a whistle was called and the game was over. Hermione clapped for the players, smiling widely. She had had more fun watching the game that she would have ever expected.

A few dark grey rain clouds looked ominous as they hung low over the field. _I should hurry… _she thought to herself as she stared at the team. And with her notepad, she hurried down to the pitch. Calum smirked at her as she approached,

"Well _hello_ there, Hermione."

"Great game," she said politely but in a tone aimed at not encouraging him.

"Thanks… I assume you're looking for McPherson and Wood?" Calum looked around and spotted the men heatedly discussing the last goal of the game. "Oy!" He called out to them, "You two! Come over here!"

James and Oliver groaned lightly and ended their talk, nodding and walking towards Calum. The first had a tall, lanky figure and piercing blue eyes the color of the ocean. The man who lingered a bit behind the first, who Hermione recognized as Oliver, was a bit more built and undeniably handsome. He had grown considerably since she had last seen him. His brown hair was cut shorter and his shoulders seemed more broad. Their looks of resignation in response to Calum's order disappeared when they saw Hermione. Much to her embarrassment Oliver had noticed her staring, and she was thankful for James' introducing himself, anything to break the awkward silence that had descended upon the trio.

"I'm James McPherson," James stated, extending a hand and offering a smile. Hermione smiled back and stated a hearty,

"Pleased to meet you, James… My name's Hermione, and I was wondering if you'd let me interview you." She turned to Oliver, "Erm, I'm writing an article for the Daily Prophet about you two," She glanced back at James, "Is…that alright?"

James laughed lightly, "Of course! That sounds great." After an awkward pause, he glanced at Oliver, whose inquisitive eyes had not left Hermione. "Mate," James said in a quiet tone, lightly shoving him. Oliver reluctantly turned towards from Hermione to James, "Yeah? Oh," He said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, "Erm. Yes, of course. That's fine." He said in response to Hermione's question, his eyes meeting hers. He fought to keep his face passive and he glanced back at James, waiting for him to speak.

"Yeah… "James said, confused by Oliver's behavior, "Anyway, Hermione we're actually all heading out for a drink after this. You're welcome to join us and get out of this weather… It looks like a right storm is brewing up."

The three of them glanced towards the dark sky. "Alright that sounds brilliant." Hermione said, smiling at James then looking tentatively at Oliver.

"Great," Oliver and James said at the same time. James laughed lightly and Oliver smiled. "Hermione, let us just get changed quickly, yeah?" Oliver said, directly addressing Hermione for the first time. She nodded, afraid her voice would betray her as she stared into his dark eyes. _No, no, no!_ She told herself, chastising herself for her reaction to him. _Don't act like some silly schoolgirl. _But even as the two men walked away towards their locker room, she couldn't get his smile out of her head. Level headed Hermione had the workings of a crush.

…

III

Oliver had woken that morning thinking that the day would be thoroughly average. Boring even. He was just as passionate about quidditch now as he was the first day he had blocked a quaffle, but his life had become undoubtedly routine and his sole enjoyment came from the occasional difficult block or some feat of flying. His personal life was entirely nonexistent but quite frankly, he considered anything off the quidditch pitch mind-dulling and a complete waste of time. And so, it had considerably surprised him to find himself face to face with a girl from his old school. 'Library girl', he had often labeled her in his head, although it was impossible to _not_ know her name. Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter "the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort". Oliver characteristically knew him better as one of the greatest seekers the Gryffindor team had seen in ages.

Through word of mouth he had heard that there was a "cute witch" watching them practice. Never before would he have associated "cute witch" with 'Library Girl' however upon seeing her, it was obvious that their claims were true. Although he refused to admit it, he has stared at her a bit more than was absolutely necessary…

After his brief encounter with her on the pitch, he and James walked to the locker room to change into their street clothes. As Oliver untied his boots, James grinned and spoke in a cheeky tone,

"So, what do you think of that Hermione girl? Cute yeah?"

Oliver momentarily paused while pulling his shirt off over his head. "Erm. Yeah I s'pose."

"Well she's going drinking with us. That should be fun." James' said with a light laugh.

Oliver's eyes flashed and he felt suddenly and overwhelmingly angry at James. _What's wrong with me? _He thought to himself, trying to calm himself down. He felt…protective. _Probably because you went to school with the girl…and she's younger and shy. That's it. You're just being nice… yeah. _His brows furrowed as he pulled on a pair of normal shoes.

James noticed the odd reaction, "Oliver, you alright?"

"Yeah, mate. I'm fine. I just might be getting sick or something…"

"Maybe you shouldn't—"

Oliver considered the idea of the team going off with Hermione without him. "I'm fine." He interrupted tersely and, after he slipped on a jacket, he walked out of the locker room, James trailing behind him.

…

IV

Hermione smiled lightly as the majority of the team filtered out of the locker room. A light drizzle had descended upon the field and Calum seemed especially keen on holding her umbrella for her. Once she spotted James and Oliver, she waved, eyeing the two of them with a look that said "HELP ME" in response to Calum's overtly flirtatious comments.

"We can take it from here," Oliver said with a smirk, taking the umbrella from Calum. Calum's gaze shifted from Hermione to Oliver then back again.

"Oh…Sure thing." Calum said in an edgy tone, not appreciating the fact that he was being shown up by simple reserves. Either way, he backed off. Once Calum was out of earshot Hermione whispered a "thank you" to Oliver. He shrugged and said offhandedly, "He's quite an arrogant bastard at times. Just doing my civic duty." James laughed loudly at Oliver's comment.

Hermione nodded, trying desperately not to misinterpret his action as something done out of romantic interest. _Civic duty. _She reminded herself. _Nothing more. He doesn't even remember me... Be logical Hermione, you're __**working**__. _And with that she forced herself to focus on her article she had to write, ignoring the looks and the mannerisms of the boy who held the umbrella above her. This was going to be quite an evening.

____________

**I hope that "cliffhanger" wasn't lame… And if it is, I'll be updating very soon so keep reading (and reviewing)!**


	4. Chapter 4: Falling

__Chapter Four__

Falling

"_He doesn't even remember me... Be logical Hermione, you're__**working**__." She thought to herself.__And with that tried to focus on the article she had to write, ignoring the looks and the mannerisms of the handsome boy who held the umbrella above her. This was going to be _quite_ an evening._

I

As the three of them made their way to the pub, James continued to talk animatedly about the final goal.

"C'mon mate, you nearly had it!" James had proclaimed then carried on with a detailed description of exactly how Oliver _should_ have blocked the quaffle.

Oliver, however, wasn't paying attention. He nodded at the appropriate intervals and smiled lightly, throwing in "Uh-huh"s and "Spot on"s when necessary but was not entirely conscious of what his best mate was saying. For the first time in his life he had found something that distracted him from Quidditch: the girl under the umbrella he held. Every so often he'd sneak a side-long glance at her and nearly got whiplash from trying to turn away the particular time Hermione had caught him staring. He couldn't explain the perplexing attraction he had felt growing since he had seen her on the pitch nor strange allure she held for him. All he was sure of was that these emotions, in their spontaneity, terrified him.

He had met all sorts of gorgeous women that would have been walking hits to Hermione's self esteem. He had had the opportunity to win over plenty of girls and resisted even veelas on a couple accounts. But as he sneaked another sidelong glance at Hermione, none of this mattered to him. All were paled in comparison to her. Once they reached the pub he realized there was potential for falling in love with her.

_HAVE YOU GONE ABSOLUTELY LOONEY!_ He thought to himself the second he admitted in his mind that he was falling for her. _You've known her a grand total of what? 5 hours?_

Oliver let out a frustrated sigh. As passionate as he was about Quidditch, genuine feelings towards anything besides it, especially a younger _reporter_ witch, were foreign to him.

"Oliver?" He heard a voice call. Hermione was lightly pulling the umbrella from his hands. Apparently they were inside the pub. "Erm. You okay?" She asked with a glimmer of concern. "Aye. I'm chust fine " he retorted. His accent was, as always, more sibilant when he was embarrassed. Hermione raised an eyebrow but couldn't help but smile as Oliver awkwardly shut the umbrella and made his way to the giant booth half the team was sharing.

"Maybe I should find another table…" Hermione said to no one in particular as she noted that the portion of the team already seated in the booth was pushed closely together.

"No. Don't worry about it. I think there's _just _enough room," Oliver said, sliding in just enough to give her a small bit of space close beside him. James had noted the peculiarity and gave Oliver the "what the hell is wrong with you?" look. Oliver simply shrugged.

II

Seeing as there was no room left at the edge of the table, James was forced to meander over to the opposite side, leaving Hermione and Oliver sitting tightly together in the corner. _Oh gosh. This is going to be awkward..._ Hermione thought, recalling their walk to the pub, during which he had barely said two words to her. Oliver had seemed largely quiet and brooding, giving Hermione had the nagging feeling that her presence was making him uncomfortable. _He__ probably hates me. I mean… I'm just some reporter here to spoil his fun._ She sighed,_ Might as well__get it over with..._

The process of getting her notepad out of her pocket was a difficult one that included her having to stand up and try to yank the thing out of her back pocket in what little room the booth gave her. Right as she pulled the notepad out she completely lost her balance on the slippery floor and she found herself about to fall sideways into Oliver.

_No no__noo!_ she thought frantically, but before anyone else had time to notice, Oliver had wrapped his arm around her waist, caught her and hoisted her back into the seat booth. She found herself flushed red with embarrassment sitting half-way on his lap.  
"Oh... Erm...I..." she stated uneasily then mumbled a quiet "Sorry..." to Oliver and slid into the tiny space left beside him. She looked up at him sheepishly, expecting him to be embarrassed or at least pretending it hadn't happened, however she found him laughing lightly at the occasion. "That was hilarious" He said with a smile.

"Yeah well...Try being the one falling" she tried to say sarcastically but failing and smiling instead. "And erm. Thanks… That could have been incredibly embarrassing..."

Oliver chuckled, "No problem. These guys would never let you live it down, you know." 

"Right…" Hermione agreed, then placed her notepad on the table. "Oliver…" She began to say. He enjoyed the way she said his name. _Och, snap out of it, mate._ He told himself, and then turned to her, giving her his complete attention. "Yes?" He responded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was Hermione's turn to ogle. _He has really nice lips—STOP IT, _she mentally chastised. She shook her head, "Erm. I was supposed to interview you _and_ James but it seems like he's a bit preoccupied." The two of them glanced at the opposite end of the table where James had a row of shot glasses lined up before him. A small crowd was cheering him on.

"Yeah…" Oliver said raising an eyebrow. "Well, you can interview us tomorrow, you know…"

Hermione bit her lip, indecisive. "I'm not sure if I was supposed to stay here overnight. I was thinking of catching the seven o' clock train?"

Oliver tried to maintain a serious face but couldn't help grinning, "Hermione, it's eight o'clock."

Her face fell and she whipped around, groaning as her eyes met the clock that spelled out a large 8:23.

"Oh." She said, turning forward and frowning.

Oliver's tone became sympathetic, "Let's just grab a pint, yeah? Work can always wait." He flashed a grin and with that she was won over.

III

The two of them had wandered over to the bar in an attempt to free themselves of the cramped booth full of now drunk Quidditch players.

"So…" Oliver began, handing her a glass full of frothing liquid, "What brought you to our lowly Quidditch pitch today Ms. Granger?"

Hermione stifled a squeal and paused a moment, admiring his voice. The words 'Ms. Granger' in _his_ voice really did sound lovely… enough for her to wish 'Granger' were something more along the lines of 'Wood'. _No._ a voice in her head chastised, _You're working. You're working. You're working…_ she tried to repeat to herself. She took a big swig of her drink and settled for a terse, "It's complicated…"

"Well I'd like to hear it nonetheless. We've got time." Oliver said warmly, "I'm assuming it'll be at least an hour before this rain lets up… or before that lot can even walk straight." He laughed and nodded towards the group of players, where Calum and a beater were arm wrestling. Hermione offered a pained smile. "Erm. Okay well, I went back to the muggle world for something of a little break." She conveniently left out her motive and continued. "It was going alright," She wrapped her hands around the cup sitting before her, "Well no… it wasn't that's a lie. It was absolute hell. Anyway, yesterday morning I was fired from the newspaper I was writing for and there was somehow an opening at the Prophet so I took the opportunity, was assigned to 'sports' and here I am."

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to digest the story.

"…You _left_ the wizarding world?" He asked.

"Well, yes. I _am_ muggle born. It's not as foreign to me as it probably is to you"

"Oh. Yes, that's right." He replied retrieving the information from a dusty recess of his mind. "So you didn't like it there?"

"No not at all. I suppose it's alright for summers and such but actually living there on my own was incredibly depressing." Her eyes met his and she was surprised to see him actually paying attention. Oliver was beginning to _smile_.

"Oliver Wood!" She exclaimed, "You asked to hear my story, which I'm _obviously_ upset about and you start smiling!?"

"No no, it's nothing like that." He replied. Hermione glared as his smile grew.

Aware of the fact that she was still upset he explained himself "I'm glad you don't want to go back…that you're staying I mean."

Hermione's anger disappeared and she blushed. "Oh.." was all she could manage. _God, he's good…but he's probably just being polite, right?_ she thought to herself.

Oliver glanced at his watch and let out a sigh of relief. "Well while I have you all warm and fuzzy I think it's safe to tell you that your train just left."

Confused by his words Hermione simply stared and muttered a quiet "What?"

"Och lass, everyone knows the clocks are wrong in this place. It's barely 7:05."

"Bloody hell, Oliver! You bastard! I could have made it!" Hermione said, getting to her feet.

"Language!" He said with a laugh and tugged lightly at her arm. "C'mon, what are you so eager to get back to? More work?"

She shot a question back at him, "Why were _you_ so eager to keep me here?"

Oliver's face went blank and he became hyper aware of the fact that his response could very possibly change the course of his life. Up to this point, his life had consisted of two things, breathing and Quidditch. The rest had been disposable. Now, as a livid yet glorious woman with bushy brown hair stood before him, he felt a change within himself. He cared about her. He was ensnared by everything about her from the way she seemed so dedicated to a job she had only had for a few hours, to the way she bit her lip. Her very breathing intrigued him. He swallowed. There was no way around it.

"I…wanted to spend more time with you? I like you, Hermione." His voice was quiet as he made plans to blame his statement on the drinks if she thought him forward.

Hermione sank back into her seat, utterly shocked. _Did he just say he liked me? I believe he did. _"Oh…" she said. He had left her speechless quite often today… and it was rather rare for her to be speechless. She paused, considering his words and after a moment she offered him a teasing smile, "Well… You still made me miss my train."

"Ah, I'm not going to apologize for that." Oliver said, smiling triumphantly.

"Cad." Hermione said with a laugh and took another sip from her glass.

IV

The two of them felt incredibly at ease since they had acknowledged their mutual attraction and had fallen into the step a simple conversation as they sat at the bar of the crowded pub.

"You mean to tell me you only came to the Gryffindor games because Harry was playing? So you have no genuine interest in the sport?" Oliver exclaimed incredulously after Hermione had confessed her secret distaste for Quidditch matches.

"Well I enjoyed watching you all play today. That was great fun." She shrugged.

"But you've never played a match? Not even as a kid with friends?!"

"Oliver, must I remind you again that I'm muggle born?" She laughed lightly, "We'd play games like hide-and-seek or football."

"I can't believe it." He said downing the rest of the glass in his hand and adding it to the small crowd of glasses they had finished.

"I guess I just don't like flying, to be honest."

"Well maybe no one's ever shown you how to do it correctly. That's easily remedied." Oliver said with a grin.

A very drunk James interjected, "Och mate, you've just met the girl. That sounded …" James paused, his vision hazy. "vurry dirty, Oliver." His words were slurred. "What are you two on about?" James asked leaning heavily on Oliver.

"Erm, flying James. And I think it's about time we get you home…"

"Yess…" James said with sleepy eyes, pointing with terrible aim at Oliver's face. "You're a g-good man." And with that, James passed out drunk upon the floor of the bar.

"Blimey…" Oliver said crouching down and slinging James' unconscious body over his shoulder. "Erm…sorry you have to see this." He said to Hermione with an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it," She said with a smile and the two of them followed the rest of the disoriented team outside. The cool air stung their noses the second they got out of the pub and the fact that she had nowhere to stay suddenly hit Hermione.

"Erm, Oliver?" She asked as the two of them walked in the direction of his flat, Oliver still with James slung over his shoulder.

"Yes Hermione?" he replied in a sweet tone that was altogether unfamiliar to him.

"I haven't a place to stay…"

"Oh, erm, right. Well you're welcome to stay with James and me…" He noted her reaction to what probably sounded scandalous to Hermione and took the statement in a different direction," but seeing as you seem to be a girl with a sense of propriety, let me drop off James and I'll show you to this couthie wee inn down the road."

She smiled at his remark, enjoying his accent. "Brilliant."

V

Once James had been dumped on his bed and the door to Oliver's flat had been locked, Oliver and Hermione began to make their way down the dark streets to the inn he had described to her.

"Now it's nothing fancy but I stayed in it when I first came here and I really loved it."

Hermione nodded and rubbed her hands together, regretting the fact that she hadn't brought her gloves. She settled for placing them in her pockets, however Oliver had already noticed. Too shy to hold her hands like he had been dying to do all night, he pulled his gloves off, "Please, take mine." He held them out for her.

Hermione shook her head and smiled at his gallantry, "No really, I'm fine."

"You're not!"

"Really Oliver, I think I'd know."

He sighed, frustrated with her stubbornness and figured he'd meet her halfway.

"At least give me your hand…"

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily and he realized she'd misinterpreted him.  
He clarified himself, "Not like that, God woman, I just don't want you to catch a cold."

She chuckled. They had nearly reached the entrance of the inn but she placed her hands in his nonetheless, "I doubt anything bad has ever come from cold hands. Cold feet now that's another story."

Considering this an invitation to prove that he _wasn't_ one to have 'cold feet' or be weary of making their relationship a bit more than platonic, Oliver smiled. They had reached the entrance of the inn and, walking forward so that she was forced to back into the stone wall behind her, he murmured, "Oh yes, cold feet are _terrible._"

And with that, he placed a hand on either side of her face and leaned in, his lips crashing against hers. At first tender, it evolved into something a bit more enthusiastic, making it an all around thrilling first kiss.

When he pulled away, Hermione let out a ragged breath. She had forgotten what they were talking about. Hell, she had forgotten her own name. Oliver smiled and kissed her once, twice, more in a much chaster manner.

"Overkill." Hermione teased after the third, short kiss.

"I thought it was quite nice." Oliver said with a sweet smile, refusing to let Hermione weaken the moment with jokes.

"It was." She admitted shyly, surprised to find his face still mere centimeters from hers.

"You should go to bed. Goodnight Hermione." He murmured with a smile. And before she could even think of a reply, he was walking off, his step considerably springier than it had been before.

Hermione watched him turn the corner and let out a loud breath. _Wow. _Was the only thought she could properly register, and with the warmth of his lips still tangible on her own, she entered the small inn, purchased and room and went to bed.

**___________**

**Please Review!!!**

**Your reviews honestly make me more willing to write this stuff**

**Anyway, much love to all you lovely readers. I apologize for the pause between this chapter and my last. **


	5. Chapter 5: Sleeping To Dream

**Yeah, yeah, I'm updating two days in a row. haha**

_Chapter Five_

I

Hermione was in a forest. Or was it a field? It was hard to tell. The lighting was so very peculiar. She looked around at her disorienting surroundings, then down at herself.

"Merlin's beard, what is going _on_?" she asked aloud. Her body was entirely void of clothes. Understandably embarrassed, she looked around for something to cover herself with, but instead found the record player her parents used to use lying in the tall grass. On its axis sat a decrepit record, spinning lazily even though the player wasn't plugged in. It was a vintage Beatles vinyl lightly playing their famous song "Something".

"Okay this is very weird. I've _got_ to be dreaming…"

"Of course you are, love!" A voice called out. Hermione quickly turned around. Her stomach felt as if it had performed a somersault. Before her stood Oliver Wood, up-and-coming star of Puddlemere United, the man she just so happened to be falling in love with.

"Oliver?"

Her wonderment turned to horror as she remembered she was naked. "Oliver!"

The volume of the music seemed to increase exponentially, as did her heart rate.

She backed away, frantically searching for a place to hide, but for every pace she took backwards, he took two forward. The music was suddenly all encompassing. His voice began to sing along in perfect unison with it:"Something in the way she woos me...."

"Oliver, please..." she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

He had gained on her and they now stood mere inches apart. She closed her eyes tightly, as if the fact that she couldn't see him would make her magically invisible. It failed. She was suddenly met by the sensation of his hand on the small of her back. He pulled her closer; his lips at her ear, "Wake up, Hermione."

…

II

Hermione Granger's eyes flew open, interrupting one of the most bizarre dreams she had had in a while. She let out a heaving sigh and glanced at the opposite side of the bed. Empty. "Damn my 'propriety'..." she mumbled, quoting Oliver's description of her, and fumbled out of bed; or rather, tried to get out of bed. Upon standing, she became aware of the effect the alcohol from the previous night had had, as a pounding headache ravaged her skull. She let herself fall down to the bed with a quiet, "Oof" and tried to go back to sleep, the prospect of continuing her dream where she'd left off incredibly appealing. Just as she felt herself drifting away, she heard a quiet knocking at the door.

"Ms. Granger?" called the modest owner of the inn. Hermione let out a small groan and sleepily opened her eyes. "Yes?" She called, her voice cracking with its first use of that morning.

"Ms. Granger, a man's asking for you. He identified himself as Oliver?"

Hermione's eyes naturally flew to the clock. It was a full hour and a half past the time she had been meant to meet him at the pitch.

"Oh! I… Please let him know I'll be out soon." And with that, Hermione began the mad dash to get showered and properly dressed, all the while smiling at the thought that he had come for her.

…

III

Oliver's morning started much the same way. He had woken up twenty minutes late, but was feeling chipper nevertheless. The events of the previous evening had reverberated through his mind ever since he had dropped Hermione off. He couldn't believe elation that had overtaken him the second his lips met hers. It was incredible and made him feel strangely vulnerable. _To invest this much emotion in anyone is dangerous_… he had told himself, but for the first time in his life, he was willing to take the risk.

He took a quick shower and got dressed in regular street clothes, more enthusiastic to get to the pitch than usual. Oliver interrupted his cheerful whistling to see how his mate was doing.

"James?" He called out. The only response was a loud groan and a mumbled "Bugger off Oliver... Do you have to be so damned loud?"

Oliver laughed quietly and apparated to the Quidditch pitch with a loud pop that caused the very hung over James to cover his head with his pillow.

As he walked into the gates of the Puddlemere pitch, Oliver smiled and took a few deep breaths. The brisk morning air reminded him of the night before. To be honest, he didn't need much reminding.

He spotted Artie, the janitor, lolling about, reading a battered copy of an obscene magazine. "Artie," Oliver called out, causing the janitor to panic and the magazine into his water bucket.

"Yes Oliver?" He replied, feigning innocence.

Oliver raised an eyebrow as the magazine floated to the top of the bucket. The cover was a moving picture of a busty witch showing far too much cleavage. She winked and giggled from beneath the bubbly water.

"Artie, it takes more than a bucket of soap water to wash that filth…"

Artie, looking much chagrined, looked down at his feet, "Yeah well…w-we 'aven't all got pretty little reporters chasing after us 'ave we?"

It was Oliver's turn to feel awkward. "I…erm. She's not chasing after me…hold on, how the bloody hell did _you_ hear about that?"

Artie shrugged, "I 'ave my ways."

"Whatever mate, is Hermi-", he cut himself off, "Ms. Granger here yet?"

"Naw, I 'aven't seen 'er."

Oliver nodded and checked his watch. "Well thanks Artie,"

He started heading towards the locker room but paused, "And you better fish your girlfriend out of there before she drowns." Oliver stated with a smirk and nodded towards the bucket.

"Och, bugger off Wood." Artie said and pulled the copy of Playwizard out of the bucket, waving his wand over it and drying it out instantly.

Oliver entered the locker room, assuring himself that Hermione would show up; that he hadn't scared her off with a kiss. _Maybe I _was _a bit forward…_ he kept thinking. As he absentmindedly laced up his boots, Calum punched him on the shoulder, light enough to pass as jokingly, but too hard to be considered altogether friendly. "So… You scored with one of the smartest witches of our age. How does it feel Wood?"

Oliver glared up at him, "I just met her, mate. And if I had I don't think it's any of your business."

Calum sneered, "Well if you don't shag her soon I know I will." and turned to his own locker.

Oliver's hand twitched and his heart rate instantly sped up. His reflexes seemed to _beg_ him to punch his captain and it took all his willpower to conjure a lighthearted response, "As if she'd be willing, Calum." He attempted a chuckle but it came out more like a grimace.

"She'd be _honored. _I can assure you." Calum replied, as he pulled on a shirt.

Oliver's jaw clenched and he decided that Calum's piggish narcissism wasn't worthy of a response, rather, he simply shoved past him and walked out to the pitch.

Still, no Hermione.

He had gotten through warm ups, so distracted by her absence that he _nearly_ missed a quaffle. By the time they were playing a practice match, Oliver was becoming genuinely worried. He must have done something wrong the night before. _You idiotic cad, you scared her away…_

The second a time-out was called, Oliver approached Calum and made up an excuse.

"Calum I'm feeling right sick…"

"Yeah… you've done a crap job of being keeper."

"Erm, d'you mind if I head home and check on James?"

"I never mind you leaving." Calum said, pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah." Oliver said and rushed to gather his things.

And so, twenty minutes later he found himself in his Quidditch uniform and a sweatshirt, standing awkwardly in the sitting room of the inn. _Perhaps it was a mistake to even come? I mean…if she didn't want to see me at the pitch, she won't want to see me here. Oh God I just met her and I've already screwed things up…_ He wondered to himself. Before his musings could drift too far, the elderly lady he had asked to inform Hermione of his arrival returned and told him in a quiet voice, "She said she'll be right out." The inn keeper looked around as if to make sure no one was listening and whispered, "I think she over slept, love." Oliver smiled lightly at her secretive tone and replied in an equally quiet tone, "Thanks very much", yet it was impossible for him to shake the feeling that he had done something terribly wrong.

…

IV

Hermione couldn't believe she had overslept and was currently muttering a low string of curse words as she tied her hair into a neat bun. Most of all she was upset with herself for the lost time with…him. _God you sound ridiculous… _she admitted but she couldn't bring herself to be ashamed. He was rather…wonderful. After a deep breath, she rushed out of her room. "Hello Oli—" Oliver had immediately interrupted her, his face apologetic.

"Hermione I'm so sorry. I—I was a complete ass. I apologize for being forward and… I understand if you don't want to do this interview thing. You can tell them we weren't interesting enough or… I don't know you'll think of something…" Oliver's voice trailed off as Hermione began laughing loudly.

"Oliver what are you _talking_ about?!" She said between laughs.

"I'm talking about…well, you didn't come to the pitch I assumed you didn't want to see me." He stuck his hands in his pockets and began turning quite red.

"I slept in. I'm sorry. I was having quite the dream." Hermione said sweetly to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Oliver sighed loudly, "God, Hermione you scared me…I was so sure you—I guess it doesn't matter."

Hermione shook her head, "Not really. It just proves how incredibly silly you are." She wrinkled her nose as she smiled up at him.

Oliver's current expression could be described as nothing less than serene as he beamed at Hermione. "Well, Ms. Granger" he said matter-of-factly, "I happen to have the rest of the day off."  
She raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh really?"

Oliver nodded and linked his arm with hers, leading her out of the inn.

"So why don't you tell me about this dream of yours?"

His smile grew as he noted that Hermione blushed.

She bit her lip then grinned up at him, "Tell me one thing first… have you ever heard of the Beatles?"

_____________

**Please review lovelies!!!**


	6. Chapter 6: His Sweet Disposition

**OK, sooo a story I'm following gave me the idea to do this: **

**Time to thank reviewers! :D yeah, yeah I don't have that many and I'm barely up to 1000+ hits, BUT I totally want to extend a huge THANKS to my reviewers, especially since you've all posted multiple times. ****ginsensu****, ****Cle de Demoiselle****, ****CasyRydr.4wolf.****, ****Readerforlife ****…You guys are honestly the reason I keep writing this xD **

**If any of your readers have any suggestions for where to take this story, inbox me! I'd appreciate the input. ANYWAY, I love you all! In a totally non-creepy way that is… O_o**

… **okay moving on…hehe**

**I present to you all, chapter six! **

__Chapter Six__

His Sweet Disposition

I

Hermione had fumbled her way through a made up description of her dream, only to receive a "yeah right" from Oliver.

"_You __**do**__ know that by lying I'm just going to assume that it was some X rated dream involving you, Calum and a ludicrous amount of pudding, right?" Oliver had teased._

"_Honestly Oliver, how old are we?"_

_Oliver simply shrugged and laughed, giddy from the feel of her hand wrapped around his._

Quite frankly, she couldn't care less if he believed her or not. So long as she didn't have to recount the dreadful thing to his face.

They were currently walking back towards Oliver's flat. Hermione had insisted they get some work done on her interview and he had complied, although he was quite sure James would still be passed out on the couch. The less gentleman-like half of Oliver hoped for such a thing due to the fact that James acted irritable beyond belief when hung over and would probably annoy Hermione enough to want to leave, however, as he turned the key to his fancy flat, his courteous side won over.

"Erm, Hermione, do you mind waiting here for a moment? I'm not sure if James is in a state to be civil enough to be interviewed… or even dressed, for that matter."

Hermione laughed lightly and nodded, "I'm fine with waiting here."

"Brilliant" Oliver said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Hermione found it borderline unfair that anyone could be so agonizingly good looking and it took her a moment to realize he had gone inside, leaving her alone in the hallway.

'Get a hold of yourself, Hermione!' she thought. 'You're only standing outside the doorway of one of Witch Weekly's Top 50 Bachelors… nothing worth noting. Oh? You kissed last night? No big deal…' Her attempts at calming herself down were rather pathetic and when Oliver opened the door to give her the green light for coming in, she jumped, surprised that it had taken him so little time.

"I didn't scare you did I?" Oliver said in a tone that conveyed genuine concern.

"No, Oliver… I…" She felt herself beginning to blush and quickly drove the thoughts of his looks and sweet disposition out of her head by changing the subject, "Erm. Is James alright?"

"I wouldn't know," Oliver said, holding the door open for her. _And they say chivalry is dead…_ Hermione thought to herself as she entered the flat. Oliver continued talking, "I looked in all the rooms and he's nowhere to be found."

Hermione's insides fluttered at the prospect of being alone. Her expression must have seemed peculiar to Oliver, seeing as his smile faded and his tone grew apologetic, "Sorry… I completely forgot, that must be dreadful news as far as your interview goes. Erm, I can apparate to the pitch and see if he's there…or er, call around…"

"No!" she said a bit louder than necessary. She felt her face go hot, "I mean, I…don't want to be a nuisance. I can interview you two separately? Or..." Hermione bit her lip. Why were things so awkward with him? It hit her that she was actually falling for him. Usually the bossy sort of girl, she hadn't ever met someone that made her second guess herself, yet here she was, stammering like a mountain troll. _Ugh. Stop acting idiotic. You're two grown adults, you can handle being alone...can't you? _

"Can we just wait here?"

Oliver's grin returned and he nodded as he shut the door, "Of course."

Hermione smiled back, then tore her gaze from his, trying to hide her growing smile. Something in his eyes suggested he felt the same way she did right about now. Or at least, she thought so. A large part of her was still under the impression that this was 'too good to be true'. She settled for letting her eyes wander around the apartment. It was painted in varying shades of blue creating overall a very calming effect. She could feel him staring at her. It was a glorious sensation, for it felt thoroughly genuine and not the least bit judgmental. After a few minutes of silence, she looked back at him. He was smiling at her, content, though his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked as if he was waiting for her to say something.

"What?" She said in a quiet tone, as if speaking to loudly would shatter the serene moment.

"God Hermione," his tone grew gently impatient, "I can't stand it anymore!!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione responded, thoroughly confused.

He took a deep breath, "I can't stand this…this silence of yours! All morning you've been so cryptic and it's driving me mad," his eyes had an exasperated look to them.

Hermione stared at him in shock. He shook his head and continued talking, "Damn it. I _knew _it. Kissing you was a mistake, wasn't it?" Hermione's eyes grew wide. _How the hell is __**he**__ feeling insecure about this relationship?_ _For God's sake we're twenty something year olds, a kiss isn't a huge deal…_

"I _knew _it was too early. And I basically forced you to come with me by picking you up at the inn." Oliver continued, running a hand over his brown hair, "Och, I'm such an idio--" Before he could even finish a sentence, Hermione had walked forward and pressed her lips against his. He reacted instantly, his hand moving to the back of her neck, pulling her lips tighter against his. After what felt like a eternity but far too short a time, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. "Now _there's_ an response I can deal with..," He said in a quiet tone and the two began laughing, the tension melting away.

Hermione plopped down on the couch and let out a content sigh. "Honestly Oliver, stop being so annoyingly insecure! I've already told you. I slept in, it has nothing to do with you…unless you count the fact that you kept me out far past my bedtime," she teased lightly.

…

II

"So," Oliver said sitting beside her, "I suppose we like each other."

Hermione appreciated his direct manner and responded with an equally concise, "Yes."

Oliver beamed at her, "And," he began still smiling, "I s'pose that makes interviewing me rather difficult seeing as you'll be so damned attracted to me all the while."

Hermione let out a loud laugh, rolling her eyes, "Oh yes, I'm sure that's a risk."

Oliver smiled, his arm resting upon the area of couch behind Hermione, "Well… shall we get this started?"

Hermione stared at him blankly. She knew he was straight-forward but was this some strange type of foreplay? "I..erm.. what…?"

"Your interview? I mean, the sooner we get started the sooner we can go out for lunch. I know the perfect place."

"Oh…yes! Right."

"…What did you think I meant?"

"I don't know…we happen to live in a world of…innuendo…"

Oliver stared at her, confused for a moment before realization spread across his face. "Oh..oh! God Hermione, I'm not _that_ boorish."

Hermione was embarrassed and ashamed about it, but his response had slightly disappointed her. _Merlin's left knee cap, I'm really loosing it!_

At the door they heard a light turning of keys and in stumbled James, "Bloody fecking hell." He said holding an ice pack to his head. Oliver smiled coolly at Hermione then turned towards James, "What is it?"

"I fell off my fecking bed!" He nearly yelled; his accent was always stronger when he was angry.

Oliver raised an eyebrow and nodded towards Hermione.

"Ooh…" James said in a quieter tone, "I didn't see you there 'mione! Erm. Sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," she said with a smile. "But do you mind me interviewing you two?"

"I'm fine with that." James said smiling back.

…

III

Within an hour the three of them had completed the interview and Hermione sat at Oliver's kitchen table with a long scroll of written-on parchment before her. The article was finally complete and after sending it off, the only thing on her agenda was leaving, an idea that seemed all together unappealing thanks to recent …developments in her personal life.

"Is that everything, Hermione?" Oliver asked, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.

"Yes," she replied with a half-smile. She hated the prospect of being away. She hated the fact that she had fallen so deeply for him after two days. It was _completely_ irrational. Oliver seemed to pick up on her mood and he approached her solemnly, simply placing a hand on her back, "Would you like to go out for an early dinner?"

Hermione nodded and took his hand as he led her out of the apartment.

_______________

**Dudes this chapter epically sucked xP SORRY. Once again, if you have any suggestions please shoot me a line… I feel like a nice plot twist would be nice. **


	7. Chapter 7: Flying High

**A/N: Hello lovelies. I apologize for having taken so long with this chapter. I've been devoting much of my time to a Dramione fanfic which I will shamelessly advertise here haha. Check it out if you're interested. Anyway, as always, read and review, please? It makes me incredibly happy and I'd probably update more often… I'm losing interest in writing this little piece. O_O **

__Chapter Seven__

Flying High.

The stillness of the cloudless night sky sank deep into the core of Hermione 's being. She knew deep down that she wouldn't be unable to find an excuse to stay. Furthermore, the idea of explaining to Mr. Cuffe that she was falling for the subject of her article would not only get her fired but would probably force him to question her sanity. It hadn't been two days, for heaven's sake.

"Oliver," she had said in an uneasy tone as he led her around the apartment building instead of towards the sidewalk, "Why aren't we simply apparating? Or rather...why are we going towards a _broom_ shed?" "Well," he said with a small smile, "naturally, I thought we could fly..." Hermione's heart felt as if it were on an elevator whose cable had just broken.

"...f-fly? No." she said shaking her head.

They had paused in front of a pair of shabby wooden doors, behind which one would find Oliver's prized possession, his broomstick. His expression could be described as nothing less than amused.

"You don't _trust_ me? On a _broom_? Blimey, what have I done to so severely lose your confidence in me?" he teased lightly.

"I...no. It's not that. I really just...HATE flying."

Oliver smiled, thinking she was joking, and stepped around her, key in hand, ready to open the shed.

"Oliver." She said sternly, "I don't think you realize how utterly terrified I am of the things."

He turned to face her and recognized her expression as nothing less than genuine fear. "Bloody hell, you're serious?"

Hermione simply nodded.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, trying to imagine flying as being something less than the exhilarating rush he associated it with. It was practically impossible. Quidditch was in his bones and flying, going hand in hand with his favorite sport, fell under his category of obsessions. "Hmm." was all he could manage to say.

Despite her protests, he turned the key to his shed and pulled out the broom. When he turned away, he found that Hermione had backed away several paces. "NO, Oliver." She knew her time left with him was limited. She didn't want to spend it scared to death on a flying death trap.

"Hermione," he pleaded, "Its amazing! You simply haven't done it correctly. Thats where I come in."

She shook her head again, "Lets just apparate. Its faster than having to take me to St. Mungo's for cardiac arrest, thank you very much."

Oliver left his broom to lean against the door of the broom shed and approached Hermione, who was now nearly 10 meters away. "Hermione…could't you just _try_ it? For _me_? Its incredibly important to me. Please?" He was close enough to take her hand and did just that. She frowned desperately.

He could tell she was going to be stubborn about this. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you," he continued, "Fly with me tonight and when you're forced to go back to London," the two of them frowned at the thought, "I'll come visit you and we'll spend the _whole_ day in Flourish and Blotts. I promise."

Hermione bit her lip. Oliver sure drove a hard bargain. An entire day in Flourish and Blotts was appealing in itself, one with _him_ made it even better. It'd be nice to see him in a non-Quidditch environment for once…

"Deal." She said in a quiet tone.

"Wicked." He responded with a huge smile, running and grabbing his broom, "Really Hermione, you won't regret this!" Oliver's eyes seemed as excited as a young boy describing his favorite game to play with friends.

Eager to get started, he deftly straddled the broom and motioned for Hermione to climb on. Hesitantly, but surely enough, she climbed on, positioning herself so that her back was against his chest, "A-alright…" She stuttered, her eyes already closed. She placed her hands on the broom, gripping it tight enough for her knuckles to turn white.

"Calm down. It'll be great.." Oliver murmured into her ear. Once he had wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady, he kicked off the ground and they were off, flying high.

A high pitched yelp pierced the night air as Hermione reacted poorly to the sudden jolt of the broom. Oliver let out a loud whoop as their speed began to increase.

"SLOW DOWN!" she screamed over the sound of the wind rushing past them, yet the broom's velocity seemed to zoom even faster.

"OLIVER. I swear if you don't sta_--_aaaaaah" her yell turned into yet another loud scream as Oliver dipped down, bringing them dangerously close to tree tops.

Oliver was laughing loudly by this point, exhilarated by the feel of the broom beneath him and the girl in front of him. This was, in his eyes, the perfect date. Hermione on the other hand, had resorted to clinging to him for dear life and burying her face in his neck. "Enjoying yourself?" Oliver asked, smiling.

A glare was her only response, one that set him laughing lightly once more.

"C'mon, Hermione. This is _fun_!"

"My God Oliver if this is your definition of _fun_ I recommend you get your head checked." she mumbled, her voice muffled by his sweater. Oliver began to slowly decrease the speed. Resultantly, the countryside below them became less of a blur. Hermione, sensing the slower speed, went so far as to sneak a peek at the sight below them. Despite her obvious bias against flying, a smile spread across her lips. "Its beautiful.."

Oliver grinned, "I told you you'd like this."

She sighed and leaned against him once more.

"So… " she said, now somewhat more comfortable, "Where exactly are we going to dinner, Mr. Wood?"

"My parents' house."


	8. Chapter 8: The Meeting

__Chapter Eight__

The Meeting

_"So… " she said now somewhat more comfortable, "Where exactly are we going to dinner, Mr. Wood?"_

_"My parents' house." _

_..._

Hermione became suddenly motionless as the broom's speed decreased at a steady pace. "Your…parents' house…?" She repeated in a quiet tone.

"Aye," Oliver said with a broad grin.

"Isn't it a bit…early?" Hermione's voice was bordering on hysteria. She didn't necessarily have much experience in this department and the prospect absolutely terrified her.

"Well…I …hadn't thought so." His gaze, which remained on the sky before them, grew guilty as he realized the pressure he was putting on her. "Shit, I should have told you. I'm sorry, 'mione. Erm… Shall I turn around?"

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing only on the sensation of his arm holding her steady. She realized in that moment that she liked--loved?-- him enough to accept whatever embarrassing situation meeting his parents would turn out to be. "No, its quite fine." She _did _however want a bit of clarification before they arrived there. "I, well, to be honest Oliver, we haven't exactly defined ourselves as even a couple and I realize that its petty to classify oneself, I mean, we're grown adults and thats for kids, right?" Hermione's voice trailed off as she noted Oliver staring at her with a peculiar expression. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"Hermione I've never before felt the need to introduce a girl to my parents," Oliver stated in a blunt manner. She grew silent after his declaration, pondering the depth of his words. They were now a mere twenty feet off the ground and had reached a clearing the countryside. Within 30 seconds they reached the ground.

As soon as they landed, Oliver's eyes met hers and he added, a half-smile playing on his lips, "Define us as whatever you'd like." It felt immature to smile, but she did it anyway. He beamed back at her and took her soft hand in his not-so-soft hand, sighing and staring at her for a moment before kissing her tenderly.

Hermione could sense a difference in this kiss. It seemed decided. And the idea that he was certain in their being together thrilled her.

Once they pulled apart Hermione took a deep breath and stuttered, "Erm. L-Lets just agree with whatever you parents classify us as, yeah?"

"Sounds brilliant." Oliver said with a smile, before setting off towards his childhood home, where his parents were probably frantically making the last adjustments to their table settings or meal before meeting the girl he had described as potentially "the one". They knew of Hermione Granger, everyone in the wizarding world seemed to, but never had they heard their son speak of a girl, a famous one at that, with such heartfelt sincerity and genuine confidence in the direction of their relationship as he had when he called them late in the previous evening.

...

"_Mum? Hi…" _he had mumbled into the receiver the night before, in a state of euphoria after his first kiss with Hermione.

_ "What is it Oliver? Are you alright?! You sound odd…"_

_ "I've..erm.."_

_ "Did you win a game? Are you promoted to captain? Your current one is a right git. I really think you deserve it a bit more than him, love."_

_ "Mum! Let me speak… I've met someone."_

His mom had remained silent for a while, then began speaking in a rapid tone.

"_A __**girl**__? Is it serious?…I mean, you're not one to usually tell us these things."_

_ "Perhaps. I feel… good."_

_ "Finally met __**the one**__, have we Ollie?"_

He had laughed lightly, "_Mum, I think so."_

…

And now Oliver and Hermione stood hand in hand before a modest looking door.

"Ready, lass?" Oliver asked, his hand hovering over the handle of the door.

"I…no but I'm sure it'll be fine." Hermione responded.

Oliver gave her hand a light squeeze then knocked on the door.

Behind the door they heard his mother's frantic voice, "Randolph! Randolph, they're here!"

"Calm down, Evey. For God's sake…"

The door swung open before them and, smiling wide, stood Oliver's parents.

Hermione felt as if she'd faint. She tried to focus on the feel of Oliver's hand wrapped around hers instead of the fact that she had two beaming parents staring at her expectantly. _Oh God, I'd take 15 O. over this... They seem incredibly sweet though…at least there's that. _

"Hello dear," Oliver's mother, Evey, said extending a hand.

"Hello Mrs. Wood," Hermione responded with a wide smile, hoping that her nervousness wasn't _too_ evident.

"Please call me Evey." His mother replied with a smile.

His father extended a hand as well, "Randolph. Pleased to meet you."

Hermoine shook his hand and noted his sweet yet serious manner. It was evident where Oliver had picked up his straight-forward disposition. After a minute or so of casual banter, the group made their way to the living room, the hardest part of their meeting over.

…

All the while Oliver had a cautious smile on his face, meticulously examining Hermione's reaction to each of his father's lame jokes or his mother's often nosy questions. Hermione seemed to handle them both with an amazing balance of politeness, charm and likability and his parents seemed so…happy. _Gosh, they seem as in love with her as I am…wait, that'd be creepy. They seem…_Oliver thought for a moment, _pleased_. The idea made him smile, for he was quite sure his parents had reached the point where they half-expected him to marry his broomstick and use a quaffel as his best man.

They were currently finishing dinner, listening to Oliver's father conclude yet another embarrassing story concerning Oliver's childhood. "So we took him to St. Mungo's and they found out he had _swallowed_ a snitch! We all knew Quidditch was something naturally in him but we never thought it'd be a literal fact!" his dad had exclaimed, laughing loudly. Oliver let out a loud groan. "Dad…really? It was funny the first time but och, it gets old around the 500th time."

Hermione giggled lightly in response to Oliver's embarrassment. _So cute…_ she thought to herself, then blushed deeply the moment she realized she had stared at him for an awkwardly long time and missed a question directed at her by Oliver's mother. Oliver and his parents were currently staring at her questioningly. "Oh, erm. Excuse me?" She asked in a quiet voice. Oliver's mom smiled knowingly, yet Oliver had interjected before Evey could make an awkward statement. "Erm, Mum, Dad, I think Hermione is a bit tired…"

Hermione's gaze _had_ grown a bit sleepy, a situation that hadn't exactly been helped by the glass of butterbeer Oliver's dad had just served her.

"Oh my!" his mother exclaimed. "Where _did_ the time go?" Evey sounded like a mother straight from a 50's film.

"Perhaps into the black holes that are your conversations…" Oliver mumbled to himself. "I think we'll be leaving now." He added in a louder voice.

Hermione got to her feet, smiling at Oliver's parents. "It was a pleasure meeting you both!" she stated with enthusiasm.

"The pleasure was all ours," Randolph stated, grinning at his son.

"Please, stop by again soon," Evey tacked on.

"Sure thing, Mum."

After a few more goodbyes, Oliver grabbed his broomstick, waited for Hermione to get on (something that she did grudgingly), then left his parents' home. It had gone neons better than he had thought it would, even with the embarrassing stories.

"That was fun…" Hermione stated, her eyes beginning to close as she nestled herself against his warm chest.

"It was," Oliver stated with a small smile, however his response had gone unheard as he realized Hermione had fallen asleep. He wrapped an arm around her to make sure she was safe. _Maybe I should speed up since she's not awake to yell and me for going fast and such… _Oliver thought to himself, but as he stared down at her, fast asleep against his chest, the idea of speeding through this blissful moment was entirely unappealing and he carried on. Oliver was no stranger to flying. He had won tournaments and crucial playoff games, yet this particular flight seemed to beat the rest.

He stole another glance at Hermione. It was perfect.

______

**Review, please?**


	9. Chapter 9: The Sweetest Goodbye

**Hey people! I'm sorry I haven't been reviewing this fanfic as often as I should be. Many thanks to all who have reviewed and added me to your updates. It means the world to me! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter…I'm afraid its a bit weak… **

Rays of sunlight filtered in through windows unshielded by curtains, falling upon the face of Hermione Granger and disturbing her peaceful slumber. She let out a small groan and rolled over, covering her eyes with her arm. As comfortable as she was, something was off.

She took a deep breath, the feel of the mattress beneath her much too soft to be the one from the inn that she had slept in the previous night. _This…isn't…the inn… _she thought groggily. Her thoughts suddenly fell into place. _This ISN'T my room! _Tearing her arm away from her eyes, Hermione sat up. She was not, in fact, sitting in her room at the inn. She wasn't too sure _where_ she was for that matter. All she recognized were blue walls.

She thought for a moment then realized where she had seen said blue walls. Oliver's flat. "What the bloody hell did I do last night?" Hermione whispered aloud. All she could remember was leaving Oliver's parents' house…they were flying home…and her memory ended there. _Maybe we crashed on his flying deathtrap and I'm in heaven…_

The house was completely silent, save for the sound of distant breathing from the living room. _Oliver? _she thought, her mind still a bit foggy. _I'm going to lean more towards my heaven theory. _She added with a sleepy smile.

Slowly climbing out of bed, she stretched out her limbs and set out to find why she was here--not that she was complaining-- and who was sleeping in the adjacent room. Before venturing out into this flat, however, she glanced down at herself, seeing that she was still in the same apparel from the night before. _Well…at least I'm clothed. _As odd as this situation was, she found herself frowning at the wrinkles and, pulling her wand out of her pocket, she waved it over the length of her body, smoothing out her hair and clothes. She let out a complacent sigh at the sight of her more put together self in the mirror, then walked into the living room, wand still in hand.

Her supposition concerning who she would find was correct. It was Oliver who was fast asleep on the couch, wearing a pair of tatty sweats. Nothing more. Her eyes slightly widened as they raked across his bare chest and continued to travel upward until meeting his face. _Wow, _she thought as she sighted his handsome sleeping face, but immediately afterwards found herself stifling a giggle. Oliver's thumb was resting lightly against his lower lip, probably a vestige of some childhood habit. "Well thats rather… adorable," she admitted out-loud, leaning against the arm of the couch, unable to stop herself from smiling. Her comment seemed to have somehow penetrated the dormant confines of Oliver's mind and he rolled on his side, yawning, then blinking his eyes awake.

The first thing he saw was Hermione. Wonderful.

With a wand in her hand… Not so wonderful.

Oliver's eyebrows shot upward as he interpreted the wand as a sign that she was upset with him for bringing her back to his apartment. Perhaps it was too soon to think she would trust him...

"Hermione?!" He asked in a shaky voice, sitting up and scooting away from her on the couch.

"Yes?" She asked, her smile slowly fading at the sight of his somewhat frightened face.

"What's the wand for?" Oliver responded, trying to keep his voice level.

"What?…Oh, nothing. Why?" she asked, confused by his reaction, and stowed it away in her pocket.

Relief flitted across Oliver's face as he relaxed his position on the couch. _Merlin's beard. I __**really **__don't understand witches, _he thought to himself before stating, "I thought you…forget it." He said with a laugh, running a hand over his head in a futile attempt to comb it back.

Hermione raised an eyebrow quizzically, "Well Oliver…if you don't mind me asking I _am_ a bit curious as to how I got here."

Oliver sighed lightly, leaning back against the couch, "Erm. Well, it was rather late when we got back and I was positive your innkeeper was already asleep so I figured I'd bring you back here. I hope you don't mind…"

Hermione nodded slowly, fighting a smile, "Well that makes sense…"

Oliver tried to decode her expression. His years of time spent playing quidditch rather than social interaction wasn't coming in handy. "You're not upset, right?"

"Why would I be?" Hermione asked with a slight laugh.

"I don't know, you…don't have a change of clothes?" Oliver guessed.

Hermione looked down at her wrinkle free clothing and laughed, "Oh Oliver, what _will_ the neighbors say?"

Oliver's responding laugh was interrupted by a sharp tapping sound coming from the window.

An owl.

A Daily Prophet, owl.

Hermione's heart sank as she watched Oliver get up from the couch and open the window, gently untying an envelope from the owl's foot. It was addressed to Hermione.

Oliver's face blanched. The tabloids would be on him like a pack of ravenous dogs if they had known Hermione Granger stayed the night. He hadn't necessarily thought of that the night before when he had been more than pleased to have her come home with him. _Well…they'll find out eventually either way. _he consented and walked towards Hermione, seating himself next to her on the couch, smiling slightly and handing the letter to her. "Its for you."

It took her a moment to regulate her heartbeat in response to his smile. _Totally illogical, Hermione._ She chastised herself. _A guy takes off his shirt and you go crazy? No. Thats… Oh forget it. _Hermione accepted the envelope with a quiet, "Thank you", trying to to distract herself from thoughts concerning the man sitting beside her by reading the small text of the letter she now held in her hands.

_**"Dear Ms. Granger," it read. **_

_**"Your piece on Wood and McPherson was brilliant! Exactly what we were looking for. We generally give our reporters three days maximum per piece. If you'd kindly report back to our office ASAP to accept your next assignment, it'd be greatly appreciated. **_

_**So glad to have you on our writing staff,**_

_**Barnabus Cuffe."**_

"Hermione?" Oliver asked after a drawn out moment. Hermione's frown had grown exponentially as her eyes had traced down the page before her. "Hermione?" He repeated.

"I…they said it was great." She sputtered.

"Thats brilliant Hermione! Congratulations." Oliver exclaimed, exalted.

"But I…have…to leave."

Oliver's smile faded slightly, "Thats fine, right? I mean…I'll come visit you whenever I can and there are always the weekends."

Hermione offered him a sad smile and nodded, "Of course."

"We'll work it out 'Mione." Oliver said and took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

Hermione laughed slightly, "I suppose us being together in Diagon Alley will attract quite some attention though…"

Oliver grinned, "I don't mind so much."

Hermione attempted a smile but could barely manage it.

The letter felt as though it weighed fifty pounds as it sat in her hand. She had to leave, "ASAP".

When she spoke again her voice was nearly inaudible, "I think I should go."

Oliver nodded understandingly, "Okay."

And, once Oliver had changed into proper clothes, the two of them apparated to the inn and gathered her things. She hated that she was being rushed when she wanted to properly experience every second with Oliver. It was incredible how profoundly two simple days had rearranged her quiet existence.

Her bags were now packed and with Quidditch Through the Ages tucked into her purse with the Puddlemere United page still dogeared from her ride to this town, Hermione readied herself to go.

"Oliver…" she began to say but he simple drew her close and kissed her square on the lips.

"I'll see you soon, love." He said confidently with a broad grin and with that, she made her leave, turning on the spot, feeling the gaze of man she potentially loved on her back.

**Review please! :D I promise my updates will arrive much sooner if you guys do x)**


	10. Chapter 10: Confessions

**A/N: Hello all! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! I'm shocked and elated to see you guys posting multiple reviews so thank you so very much :) **

**Seriously though, so many others are alerting whereas only a handful of you (for which I am eternally grateful) are reviewing! Although I'm grateful for the alerts, it'd be brilliant if some of you could review! Does this fanfic really suck that badly?! What am I doing wrong here?! xP**

**Anyway, I apologize for not having time to work on this piece…life has been rather hectic. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint! I might as well let you know that Oliver won't show his gorgeous self until next chapter! Sorry!**

**I**

Hermione had apparated into Diagon Alley with a loud crack, startling a group of adolescents that had been peering into the window of a nearby broom shop. "Excuse me…" she murmured as she walked past them, tucking her wand back into the pocket of the traveling cloak she had slipped on before leaving. She ignored their excited whispers as their group drew closer together murmuring things along the lines of "Its Hermione Granger!". The idea of fame and the problems it would pose were she to become officially involved with a certain quidditch star was entirely unappealing at the moment and she increased her pace, longing desperately to be far from their enthusiastic jeers and apparent recognition of who she was.

The morning sun filtered through the multicolored awnings that hung over the shop windows, casting brilliantly hued shadows upon Hermione's face as she reached for the door that read, in neat engraved handwriting upon a beveled plaque, "The Daily Prophet". She could barely believe it had been a mere three days since she had last entered the office and grudgingly accepted what she had seen then as a rather boring job. How wrong she had been. How dreadfully clueless to the fact that the assignment was one that would monumentally shift the course of her life.

"Ms. Granger?" A surprised Mr. Cuffe exclaimed from his office as he sighted her curly brown haired head through his doorway. She turned in time to see him fumbling out of his chair and rising to his feet, walking rapidly towards her and shaking her hand vigorously. "Your article was an _absolute _hit. Whether thats a result of your brilliant writing or your name…well," Barnabus chuckled, "I suppose we'll never know. But no matter, you're in demand and we've got loads of letters from some of your fans." He motioned towards a ludicrously tall stack of letters that were piled precariously on the edge of a table adjacent to his desk."I think it'd be good to respond to a few, don't you?" He added.

Hermione grimaced as her eyes raked the pile. She entered his office and slipped her finger under the wax seal of the first envelope she picked up. A large black and white picture of Harry Potter, which she recognized from the front page of the newspaper that had been released the day after he had defeated Voldemort, fell out onto the floor. Attached to the picture was a short note scribbled in messy cursive:

**Hermione Granger! **

**So glad to see you back in the wizarding community. **

**Does that mean you're still in contact with THE Harry Potter? **

**If so, please extend my utmost gratitude and if you'd be so kind, **

**please have him sign this picture. I'd really appreci--**

Hermione had stopped reading it, tucking the note and picture back into the envelope. "Mr. Cuffe, I really don't mean to offend but I'm quite positive that most of these letters are related to my celebrity, or rather, Harry's, rather than my article."

"Exactly!" Barnabus responded enthusiastically as he shot a hovering spell at the pile of letters, directing them neatly into a canvas sack. "So if you'd be so kind, Mr. Granger, to compose a short, general response to all the letters, I'd be much obliged."

"Sir…I came to work here as a _reporter_, not simply 'Harry Potter's best friend'" she traced quotation marks in the air with the last phrase, trying with all her might to guise the annoyance in her voice and she wished unexplainably to be back at Oliver's flat, where life was easier and the name "Hermione" was only her name and not a title.

Her editor's face fell and his eyebrows knit together, "Ms. Granger, if you so wish to work here as an _employee _rather than a celebrity you will _do what you are told._" His last few words were delivered with undisguised menace and, realizing that this was her source of income and that she had rent to pay at the Leaky Cauldron, she angrily yanked the sack of letters into her arms. She spat out an clipped "Fine" then rushed out the door, pushing it so violently away from her that it swung back and forth after she had left for a solid minute, as if it were waving goodbye to her retreating figure.

…

II

"That little _rat_!" Hermione huffed to herself as she entered the Leaky Cauldron, dumping the sack of letters next to the coat rack.

"Threatening me with my job? Really, you think he'd be more of a professional!"

To her surprise, Harry and Ron were seated comfortably at one of the booths, each with a foaming cup of butterbeer in his hand. "Hello to you too, Hermione!" Ron stated with a slight laugh. Shock flitted across her face for a moment before a wide smile took its place, "Oh Ron! and Harry!" She rushed over to their table and gave them both small hugs before seating herself beside Harry. "How did you guys know I'd be back?" "Well we asked that Cuffe bloke when you'd be back." Ron began, "We were under the impression that you'd be gone for an hour or so… We were right surprised when it dragged on for two days." Hermione fought back a blush and sighed lightly, "Yes… well, I'm sorry to have kept you two waiting. I really should have owled…"

She bit her lip and averted her gaze from the two men, before Harry broke the ice stating a short, "Don't worry about it Hermione. How'd it go?" Hermione paused before responding, choosing her words carefully so as not to immediately give the fact that she was potentially in love with Harry's former captain away. "It went well, actually. Less boring than I'd expected…"

Tom, the barkeeper and landlord of the Leaky Cauldron had dropped a glass of butter beer off for Hermoine without a word and tottered off, "Thank you" Hermione called out, and he simple nodded his head in response. She took a small sip from the glass. _Might as well say it…_she told herself and considered how to approach the subject. "Harry, I'm not sure if you read the article, but your former quidditch captain was there. My article was on him and another up and coming player," she mentioned off-handedly, avoiding Oliver's name for fear of blushing.

"Oliver Wood?" Harry said, surprised. His reaction made it evident that he had not read the article and, seeing that he had given himself away he stated, "Sorry, Hermione, I…I'll make sure to read it as soon as possible. But blimey! Oliver! How is he? What's he been up to?"

Hermione instantly regretted mentioning it as she felt herself blush deeply. "Erm, yes. Wood."

Ron noted her sudden wariness with suspicion. "What happened?" He asked in a tone that was verging on protective.

"Nothing happened, Ronald. I was simply mentioning to Harry that--"

"Nothing doesn't take three days, now, does it?" Ron said with a satisfied smirk, knowing he had her cornered.

"Well _good writing_ does, Ron. Sadly you never realized that at Hogwarts!"

He ran a hand through his red hair and shrugged, now addressing Harry. "I dunno, mate. She seems suspicious to me."

Harry eyed her now brilliantly red cheeks and nodded in agreement, "Alright Hermione, let it out. Whats going on between you and Oliver?"

"Nothing!" She repeated, her eyes obviously regretful for having brought it up.

Harry sighed, "So if I go down to the Puddlemere pitch and ask dear Oliver about the witch that came by and interviewed him he'll have nothing to say on the topic?"

Hermione's eyes turned to slits, "You wouldn't."

Ron laughed, "You've basically admitted it 'Mione. Just tell us or we'll assume the absolute worst."

She shot a disgusted look at Ron, knowing his definition of the 'absolute worst' was probably loads worse than anything she could concoct.

"Fine." she repeated for the second time that day and said in a rushed tone that made it barely understandable, "Oliver Wood and I may or may not fancy one another but I _refuse_ to say anything more on the subject."

Ron and Harry stared at her for a moment then began laughing, surprised at her having confirmed their suspicions. "Blimey Hermione! Whats up you with you and quidditch players?!" Ron said between laughs as her blush grew a deeper shade of red. "What do you _mean?_" she asked angrily. "Well think about it. First Krum, then Wood? You do seem a bit predictable."

Hermione's heart fell, "I--I hadn't thought of that."

Harry laughed, "Wait till the Prophet hears about this."

"I WORK for the Prophet!" She retorted.

"Even more of a scandal!" Ron laughed, taking a swig of butter beer, "To put it crudely, you two are in deep dragon dung." Ron added, still chuckling.

The three of them fell into silence after Harry and Ron stopped laughing at the idea of the tabloid storm about to hit Hermione and Oliver and then Harry's true shock became apparent. "Well…I never saw that coming."

Ron nodded in agreement, "You'd think their obsessions with quidditch and books would sort of clash, no?"

Hermione shot him a look then simply said "Maybe we're passionate people?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Don't let anyone at the office hear you saying _that_ Hermione."

Hermione groaned and leaned back in her chair, "Merlin's pants, what have I got myself into."

And as Tom came around to collect their now empty glasses, Hermione requested the Leaky Cauldron's largest glass of FireWhiskey.

__________

**R&R loves!**


	11. Chapter 11: Awkward Encounters

Hermione's day had been relatively quiet, consisting mainly of sorting through the gargantuan pile of fan letters she--or rather Harry-- had received via The Daily Prophet. It was a tedious, mundane work but it helped keep her mind off of things. "Things" mainly constituting her growing affection towards a certain Oliver Wood. It was not something she particularly enjoyed allowing herself think of but as her quill dotted a period at the end of a sentence in the response she was currently writing to a letter, her mind unconsciously wandered to the topic of Mr. Wood. The fluttering sensation that would rise in her stomach at the very thought of him alarmed her for it was unlike any she had ever experienced. Oh sure, she'd been on dates before but something about Oliver's stubborn and focused mindset that was so like hers had an allure that intimidated her. She felt so…vulnerable in his presence, and now that she was away from him she felt her mind going clearer, focusing more on the tabloid scandal that would arise if they were to go public rather than her growing feelings towards him.

She let out a frustrated sigh as she folded up the letter she absent-mindedly had just completed. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? This was so far from logical. Weren't _opposites _were supposed to attract? And if that were the case, what was she doing with a man so like her? Surely they would drive each other off with their conflicting passions for learning and quidditch. "Oh, snap out of it Hermione!" she said, shaking her head as if the motion would rid her of her confused, albeit undoubtedly enamored, thoughts.

Not particularly in the mood to leave the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione had ordered a small porridge for dinner and taken it up to her room, nearly finished with the fan letters. All that was left for her to do was write a larger response that would be published in the Prophet the following week. In the silence of her room, a silence interrupted only by the crackle of a warm fire, her thoughts had once more turned to Oliver. She had to do something about this. Perhaps she would visit him the next day and tell him that going public with their…relationship would be far too large a scandal and that they should call it off? The thought pained her. It was _logical_ but for once in her life, Hermione wasn't fond of the logical solution. No, she should request that they go formally public instead of caught red-handed by some over-eager tabloid reporter. But…would he be okay with this? Would he write their time together off as just a fling and think her silly for wanting to go public? A small voice in the back of her head consoled her, telling her that men interested in "flings" would not introduce a girl to one's parents.

"Thats true…" She told herself out loud. "Alright then, I'll just owl Oliver in the morning…?" Her voice made the statement sound like a question and she had to remind herself that she was a Gryffindor. Bravery was supposed to be her forte! What was it about Oliver that made her second guess herself?

"Hermione?" A voice called out. It was painfully familiar. Oliver. She looked frantically around the room but saw nothing. She ran to her door and wrenched it open but failed to find him there. "Hermione," she heard the voice repeat and she turned around, then gasped, surprised to see the image of Oliver's face in the fireplace. "I…Hi." He said awkwardly. "I wanted to see if you were in. Might I stop by?" Hermione couldn't help but grin, "Of course." was all she could really manage to say and as soon as she responded Oliver had disappeared, replaced with a flash of green fire and within moments she saw the actual Oliver rather than only his face climbing out of her fireplace, coughing slightly and brushing ash from his traveling cloak. When there eyes met, his face grew serene. "Hello, Hermione." He said, breathlessly. "Hello,." She said with the same formality. "I'm a bit surprised to see you here, Oliver" she added. Oliver smirked slightly, "Well, I told you I'd see you soon…I hope its not too much trouble. I'm not interrupting you am I?" He asked, a mask of concern flashing across his handsome features. "No, not at all." Hermione said with a smile, "Just responding to some letters sent to the Prophet." Oliver nodded and noticed a large pile of letters in the waste bin. "Those didn't quite merit responses?" He asked with a pleasant laugh. Hermione blushed lightly, "I…I didn't know how to respond to those." Oliver raised an eyebrow and walked towards the bin, pulling out a letter. "Dear Hermione," he read aloud as her blush grew deeper, "You're SO lucky to have spent a day with THE Oliver Wood. He's absolutely dreamy." Oliver blushed himself and dropped it back into the wastebasket. "Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression one of deep chagrin. "Well, " he said, changing the subject, "How have you been?"

Hermione smiled, "I'm fine, Oliver. You do realize I left your flat only this morning?"

He looked at the ground, "Well, yeah but it feels a bit longer, doesn't it?"

His response had caught her off guard and she found herself nodding, giving away the depth of her feelings towards him, "I couldn't agree more."

Oliver smiled triumphantly, "I know its a bit pathetic of me and all, showing up quite literally hours after saying good bye but, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for dinner tomorrow. Like a--a date. I've realized we haven't been too conventional with our relationship…" He felt even more pathetic to be nervous about asking her out but a wave of relief fell over him as she smiled widely and said, "That sounds lovely…Might I remind you that you've promised to spend a day with me at Flourish & Blotts?"

Oliver sighed, "Did I, now?"

"Yes." was her only response and Oliver stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"What about Saturday? I haven't got practice then."

"Brilliant."

It was hard for Oliver to hide his grin at the thought of spending more time with her. Who would have ever thought that _Hermione Granger _ of all people would be capable of doing this to him? "Well…" he said backing towards the fireplace. "I really just wanted to see you… and ask you to dinner tomorrow…so, yeah." Hermione smiled at his awkwardness. She assumed his dedication to quidditch hadn't left him much time for dating. "Alright, Oliver. It was nice seeing you." She said, still smiling. Oliver's smile grew for a moment then he leaned forward and kissed her, with a hand on either side of her face. It was unexpected, especially from someone who had repeatedly acted shyly around her, but wonderful nonetheless and as he stepped back in the fire with a smile on his face, he muttered a quick bye then threw a handful of Floo powder towards the floor of the fireplace and disappeared in the same green fire he had arrived in. As he found himself once more in his empty flat, James having gone out for drinks with the team, he stated a dazed, "I love her…", shocked at the revelation. And with the expression of a man in love, Oliver thought that tomorrow could not come soon enough.

**OK So this chapter is pretty lame. I apologize xP Please review though! Pleaaase?**


	12. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE.**

**I'm considering abandoning this plot and writing another fanfic with a similar premise. It feels a bit too out of character...too much so for me to continue writing it (as is evidenced by the fact that I haven't updated it in so long! ah!). Of course, some of it will remain the same (i.e. the fact that it's Hermione x Oliver) but a lot would be changing.**

**I'd be happy to finish off this version of the story if any of you are terribly attached to it, just let me know and I'll try to write up a conclusion for it.**


End file.
